


Possibilities As Yet Unforeseen

by mabonwitch



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Comfort Food, Courtship, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, M/M, Other, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Science Boyfriends, pack roles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabonwitch/pseuds/mabonwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alphas make Bruce...cautious.<br/>or, the one where Bruce gets courted.</p><p>Set after "In Distress" but before "Compersion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mysterious Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there! Here, have more fic in this little 'verse. The long-promised Nat/Bruce origin story. Alas, updates to the series will continue to be slow/irregular. But! Updates to this story will be done by next weekend.
> 
> There is some unintentional weirdness around a character being asexual. See the end notes for more details.

Bruce is not stupid.

Despite what has sometimes been said (screamed, beaten into him), he is not stupid. He is good at people, even. He can soothe small children into taking their medicine. He has an absolutely excellent sense of when someone is lying to him, when someone is about to get violent, and how bad they will treat him. To be fair to himself, he has far less experience with people being good to him.

Which is not to say he doesn't notice, he just doesn't...notice.

It starts like this:

He is in his lab. It is late. He had been working on a new project, completely absorbed. Like Tony, he forgets to eat when he gets like this. He thinks, reflecting later, that he hadn't had any lunch, and it was at least 11pm by the time he wrapped up for the night. He turns from shutting everything down to discover a take-out container. 

Bruce blinks at it. He pokes it. It is still warm. He takes a deep sniff. Curry. Something from that south Indian place he liked. He is fairly certain he didn't order anything.

"Huh." He shrugs, takes the fork someone has tucked into the container, and takes a bite. It's delicious. "Mmm." JARVIS hasn't said anything, so it had to be an Avenger who left it here. Only one person who would, really. "Tell Tony thanks, JARVIS."

"Certainly, sir."

**

Tony fixes a piece of his math in the middle of the night a few days later. It would have tanked his whole experiment if Bruce had gone on as planned. Then there's another meal, then an outlier.

Cookies. Obviously homemade. But Tony doesn't cook. Bruce frowns at the cookies in confusion. Maybe this one is Steve? Trying to take care of them all? He takes a bite. They are mouth-wateringly good. 

"Hey, cookies!" Clint is a ball of energy today. Before Bruce can turn to offer him one, there's a muffled thud and a quick breath. 

"Did you want one?" Bruce offers. Natasha is there too, standing with her back to Bruce. Bruce isn't surprised he didn't hear her come in. She is the quietest Avenger. 

"No!

Bruce cocked his head to one side. That had sounded a little strident for someone talking about cookies. "Are you sure? They're really good."

"Yep, positive! Totally and completely certain. You should have those cookies. Just reminded me I have some. Um. On my floor." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Which I am going to go get. My cookies. Yes."

Bruce frowns after him. What was that all about? He turns hesitantly to Natasha. She turns to face him.

"Bruce," she says. 

"Natasha. Did you want a cookie?"

She smiles, just a small thing but genuine. "No. Thank you."

He ends up taking the whole plate of cookies down to his lab.

**

Then, the next time take-out appears when he's not looking, Tony pops in while he's eating. When Bruce thanks him, Tony frowns at him.

"For what?"

Bruce blinks. "The take-out?" His mind is already racing. Surely Tony couldn't forget on such short notice?

"Uh, not me. I mean, not that I wouldn't, I totally would, and if, you know, take-out is something you've been wanting you should have said! Because I will get you more take-out. But. In this particular instance? I didn't."

"You...didn't." He thinks for a moment. "Have you gotten me take-out any time recently?"

Tony shrugs. "I don't think so. JARVIS, when was the last time I ordered Bruce take-out?"

"Three weeks ago, sir, after that battle with the unfortunate fish smell."

Tony and Bruce both shudder. "Yeah, right. Well, there you have it."

"JARVIS, who has been delivering take-out to me?"

JARVIS sounds the tiniest bit amused when he replies. "The giver has left you a message for when you asked this question: Would you rather be told, or figure it out yourself?"

Bruce narrows his eyes and then huffs. Tony crows with laughter. "Someone's got your number," he observes. "Got a secret admirer, huh?"

Bruce rolls his eyes. "I doubt it's like that." He feels a small pang as he says it. It would be sort of nice...

"A grand to the charity of your choice says it is like that."

Bruce raises his eyebrows. "And if I win?"

"What would you like, honeybear?"

"For you to stop calling me that," Bruce responds dryly. 

"Done." Tony puts out his hand to shake.

Bruce hesitates a second before shaking. "Done." He has the feeling he's just entered into a sucker's deal.

**

They all have nightmares. Bruce manages to bolt out of bed without changing this time. He rubs a hand across his sweaty forehead. "JARVIS, lights."

Slowly, lights come on. Bruce paces. He sighs, and heads down to the common floor to make himself some tea. When he steps off the elevator, the kitchen light is already on. 

"Bruce."

Bruce startles a little. Natasha is curled up on one end of the couch, a book in her lap. She holds very still and he calms himself. 

"Couldn't sleep either?" Her voice is wry, but with a sympathetic undertone he has heard from her only rarely. He shakes his head. "Tea?" She nods to the cup cradled in her hand. 

Bruce inhales, catches the deep scent of Russian tea and the spice of alpha. For once, it doesn't set him on edge. Maybe it is that she also smells like pack. Safe.

"With jam?" he asks hopefully.

She smiles. It is beautiful. "Naturally." She unfolds from the couch and moves to the kitchen before he can quite protest that he didn't mean she had to make his cup for him.

"Sit," she calls over her shoulder. Bruce settles on the couch. He nods his thanks when Natasha presses a cup into his hands. He curls around the warmth, eventually tucking his feet up to match Natasha. They are like human bookends, curled opposite each other on the couch. 

**

Take-out appears the next day. Bruce has the chopsticks halfway to his mouth when he pauses.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

Bruce eyes the bite he is about to take. He is fairly certain he's figured this out correctly.

"Tell Natasha thank you."

A screen pops up next to him, a message in Natasha's neat, elegant script the only thing in it. It reads, "Good job."

Bruce laughs.


	2. Natasha

And, alright, now that he has finally figured out who has been going out of their way to give him gifts, he starts to wonder. See, Tony giving him stuff, that's just Tony being Tony. The man has a lot of money and likes to spoil people. The closer they are to him, the more he spoils them. Tony has become Bruce's regular heatmate these days, so it makes sense. And Tony is a beta.

Natasha is an alpha. 

Natasha is an alpha, leaving him little gifts that are genuinely thoughtful. She is part of his pack- and he's almost certain they are becoming a pack at this point- but. He's enjoyed the food, the cookies, the challenge, even the late night chats. Bruce, as a rule, does not feel safe around alphas, yet Natasha somehow slipped completely under the radar. He has never, he knows, been unaware of how dangerous she is. That first incident on the Helicarrier made certain they both knew exactly how dangerous they both were. Bruce sighs and runs a hand over his face. Perhaps that is it.

Alphas who give gifts are usually courting alphas. It makes Bruce nervous. He tries to make himself think about it, about Natasha and whether he is attracted to her. She is, he can acknowledge, objectively beautiful. He tries to imagine them alone somewhere, kissing, her guiding him down to a bed-

"...November 10tha at 3:12pm, in your lab in the Avengers Tower. You are safe. No one has been hurt. It is November-"

"Thanks, JARVIS." JARVIS stops. Bruce folds down into a sitting lotus and counts his breaths. His skin is wet from fear-sweat. He thinks of nothing for as long as he needs to calm the pounding of his heart. He breathes in. He breathes out.

So. That would be a 'no' on trying anything with Natasha. He feels a pang of regret. He hoped he didn't hurt her when he told her. He had...Bruce sighed and opened his eyes. He had really liked all the little things she had done for him. 

**

"Hey." 

Oh hell. Clint was clearly waiting for him. Bruce knew he'd been too obvious that something had changed. He should have just got it over with, told Natasha that he appreciated the thought but- And this is where he cuts off. But what, exactly? How would he even start that conversation?

"Hi," Bruce says. 

"So, uh." Clint raises a hand to the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Everything okay?" He doesn't give Bruce a chance to respond. "Because you're being kinda weird around Tash. And trust me, if I've noticed, she's definitely noticed. I thought you two were getting along now?"

"We were. Are." Bruce swallows. "I just...don't think I can be what she wants me to be."

Clint goes very, very still. Bruce tenses, warning alarms of imminent danger going off. "That so?" Bruce forces himself to meet Clint's eyes. They have gone dark. There is a tense, drawn out silence. "Bruce?" Clint's voice has gone quiet. Bruce nods to show he is listening. "I'd be real careful about making any assumptions about what Natasha wants. Just. Real careful."

A knot closes Bruce's throat. He struggles to breathe. Oh. Fuck. Why hadn't he- Dammit, he knew what Natasha's job was, knew the bare outlines of what she had done before SHIELD. Why had he never thought he wasn't the only one carrying damage?

"Is..." Bruce forces himself to take a slow, deep breath. "Is there anything I should avoid talking about to keep from hurting her?"

Clint blinks. Bruce decides he's surprised Clint. A small frown appears between Clint's eyebrows. Bruce holds still and lets the other man figure out what to tell him. 

At last, Clint says, "Don't ask about sex she's had."

Yeah. That's...pretty much what he was afraid of. "Alright."

Clint leaves him slumped in the hallway, even more unsure about how to approach Natasha.

**

In the end, it is somewhat anticlimactic. He is working on a project in his lab, just wrapping up, when there's a light tap on the door.

"Knock, knock," Natasha says. Bruce labels the last vial and turns. There is a faint, amused smile on her face, probably from saying something so inane. He inhales the scent of pasteis and groans. 

"Food," he says stupidly. "You brought me Brazilian food. He makes grabby hands at her and catches himself. Tony must be wearing off on him.

Natasha laughs at him. "Wash your hands first."

Bruce rolls his eyes at her. "What do you take me for? I was wearing gloves the whole time and I washed my hands as soon as I was done decanting." He holds out his hand expectantly. Huh. There is a pleased curl of warmth in his chest but none of the unease he'd felt lately. A flutter of nerves kicks his heart rate up just a touch as he tilts his head in a distinctly omega move. "Please?"

Natasha blinks at him and hands over the food. "I figured you'd been working hard on your project these last few days, so..."

"Thank you." Despite his hunger and the delicious scent rising from the bags, Bruce fiddles with them instead of opening them. He takes a deep breath and makes eye contact. "Thank you, alpha." He feels heat rush to his cheeks. He really, really hopes he hasn't misread this.

Natasha's eyes widen and her lips soften. Slowly, she smiles at him, something gentler than usual. "You are very welcome, omega."

He allows himself to eat a single pasteis, the rich cheese inside the fried dough hitting him with a stir of pleasant nostalgia. He wipes the crumbs on the napkin in the bag.

"Natasha?" Bruce stares at his hands. "What do you want from me?"

Natasha's face is open when he looks up. "Your trust," she says simply. And that, that could be tricky. Some of the nerves he's been feeling around her lately rush back as he braces himself. 

"I don't do sex," he blurts in a rush. Bruce breathes. "With alphas." He bites back an explanation. Natasha will either ask him or not. He isn't sure which reaction he hopes for. 

Natasha nods. "I don't do sex." She arches an eyebrow at him. "With anyone."

"Oh." Bruce deflates. Relief tastes sweet in the back of his mouth. She's not going to make him talk about it. At least not until she's ready to talk, too. "Okay."

Natasha raises a hand slowly, carefully. "Bruce," she says, "I would like...may I touch your hair?"

Bruce leans toward her hand. "Yes. Please."

Trust without sex sounds...doable. Natasha pets him with methodical strokes. It is soothing. She smells enough like alpha for him to feel protected, enough like Natasha to feel safe, enough like pack to feel connected. When she invites him up to her floor, he accepts. He spends the evening with his head in Natasha's lap, having his hair stroked and being fed delicious food. They watch some foreign language film that the other Avengers would be bored by and talk lazily about artistic merit and overly convoluted plot lines. He leaves feeling light and sleeps in his own bed, dreaming of clouds and open space.


	3. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So," Tony says, plastering himself along Bruce's back, "a little birdy told me I won a bet."

"So," Tony says, plastering himself along Bruce's back, "a little birdy told me I won a bet."

Bruce shrugs, carefully keeping Tony in place. "Not quite." He doesn't bother to pretend he doesn't know what Tony is talking about. "It's..."

"Bruce, so help me, if you say 'It's complicated,' I will cut off your access to modern culture. I will send you somewhere dire, with no internet."

Bruce smirks. "-complex." 

Tony stabs a finger over Bruce's shoulder. Bruce can imagine the outraged face he's making. "That's. That- is the same thing! No, you, that, you are not allowed, I disallow you from doing this. Bruce. Do not be swallowed by stupid cultural references. We are geniuses. Genuii? We CREATE the cultural references, people should listen to us all the time."

Bruce nods and 'hmms' along.

"You. You are not listening to me, right now when I am explaining how people should listen to us, you are just ignoring me. What, what is this?" Tony pokes Bruce.

Bruce catches his finger and twists around to face Tony. Trolling him is hilarious. He can feel a grin stretching across his face.

Tony squints at him, mouth partway open. "Well, hello there. Did you get laid last night?"

Bruce grins harder and swats at Tony. "No. No, I did not get laid."

"Huh." And then, because Tony cannot leave well enough alone, "But you got...something. Something'd. What did you dooo, Bruce, tell me!"

Bruce laughs. "Tony, no."

Tony giggles at him and weasels close again. "Tony, YES," he crows, doing an impression of a handsy octopus. Bruce lets him wiggle around and wrestles playfully with him for a minute. Tony keeps up a chant of, "Yes, Tony, yes, Bruuuuce, tell me, tell me, tell me!"

When they are pressed chest to chest and thigh to thigh, Bruce loops an arm around Tony's neck. He opens his mouth and leans close. Tony shuts up. "No." Before Tony can get a protest out, Bruce raises a hand to Tony's cheek. "No, beta." His voice is calm and firm. It matches the way he feels. "This is private."

Tony quiets, all the play-fight drained out of him. It is rare for Bruce to invoke his rights as an omega like this, but being with Natasha has made him feel more certain of himself. He watches Tony's warm brown eyes.

"You're happy," Tony says.

"I'm happy," Bruce agrees. 

Tony nuzzles into his hand. "Hey," Tony says. "So, if you didn't get laid last night, do you wanna get laid now?"

Bruce rubs their noses together. "Later," he says. "Right now, we're in the lab. And I have math for you."

"Ooo." Tony wriggles out of his grasp. "Are we gonna have extended science foreplay?"

Bruce gives him the most serious look he can manage. "Yes," he says with great dignity," yes, we are."

**Author's Note:**

> There is a brief scene where an asexual character is imagined in a sexual situation. The POV character does not know at the time that said character is asexual. Also, there are some assumptions made about past experiences impacting the asexual character's sexuality.


End file.
